


My Dear Little Hero

by xX_Krystal_Rose_Xx



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xX_Krystal_Rose_Xx/pseuds/xX_Krystal_Rose_Xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Octopus kidnaps Nova to get back at Spider-man, and ends up learning his true identity in the process. With the rest of the team on a separate mission, its up to Spider-man to save him. But, will he get there on time? SpidermanXNova, and i also don't own any of the characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really new to this, so i'm not sure how this works. But I hope you like my story, tell me what you think.

The ground was cold and hard – that was the first thing Nova noticed.

The second thing was the pain of the bruises and the way his body ached. His limbs trembled in protest with every move he made, which left them quaking from the effort of trying to escape his current pursuers. He'd been fleeing for he didn't know how long when his body finally gave out on him, and he fell flat on his stomach, nose pressed to the damp floor. He tried desperately to stand up, get to his hands and knees, anything, but nothing worked.

After a few more seconds, he had no choice but to stop when black spots started invading his vision. He smiled ruefully despite himself. "So this is it..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm going to die here in this lab, at the hands of Doc Ock and The Lizard...before I even..."

He felt a stab of self-loathing at his own weakness and stupidity. What was he thinking? Taking these two on at the same time, all on his own, was suicide! He knew better than that! Fury—heck, Parker—had taught him better than that!

So many memories flashed through his head at once: his family, long since deceased; his team, Luke, Ava, Danny, and even the secretly-honorary Aunt May; but the most prominent person, the one he just couldn't get out of his head, was Peter. And that scared him more than the predicament he had managed to get himself into, more than the two villains closing in – the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could—!

"Nova..." Doctor Octopus' raspy voice bounced off the sewer walls mock-pleasantly, "…how lovely of you to join us! I was beginning to think you'd turned helmet like the sniveling whelp you are..."

He grinned cruelly at Nova, who could only stare into those gleaming red eyes. The scientist lowered himself to whisper in the superhero's ear.

"Don't worry..." The boy shuddered. "I won't kill you...yet..."

The villain wrapped one free tentacle around Nova's waist and lifted his limp body in the air. Everything was still and silent for a moment before Ock abruptly jerked him backward, causing his helmet to go flying. The scientist smirked wickedly. Just as he'd planned…

Sam, for his part, stared helplessly at the fallen helmet. There was no mistaking it now. He was done for...

Doc Ock lifted his chin with a claw, scrutinizing the dazed boy of about seventeen. He'd seen him in the security footage from Midtown High! This was almost solid proof that Spider-man did indeed go there! The madman's face lit up at the prospect of killing not one, but two meddling superheroes.

His plan was perfect. When Spider-man came, and he would, the great Otto Octavius would be ready...


	2. Shock

"Hello? I'm home!" Peter called as he walked through his front door.

There was no answer, but he'd mostly expected that. Aunt May was out, on some hiking trip in Canada, and the rest of the team was on a mission. That just left him and Sam. Speaking of Buckethead, he'd phoned earlier to tell Peter he was going to be home, so could he "go shopping for some food so he could  _finally_  get to making dinner for when his Highness got home?" He was supposed to be here…so why wasn't he answering?

_Probably playing his stupid medieval fantasy game again..._ Peter thought dryly, setting on the kitchen island about four plastic bags, each one filled with food that was probably—no, was  _definitely_ unnecessary. Then again, Sam  _was_  an unusually talented cook, a fact he took a great amount of pride in, so chances were he had some insanely amazing, unpronounceable meal all planned out.

Peter walked up the stairs to the room he and Sam shared. Even though the house had two spare bedrooms, they both seemed to prefer bunking together. His cheeks reddened at the thought, and he shook his head to chase away the embarrassment. After everything they'd been through together, it was no surprise that he'd grown quite fond of Sam. He was actually really genuine and nice underneath all that overconfidence and recklessness…and now that he thought about it, he was always incredibly vulnerable and nervous whenever Peter got close…

"Sam, how many times—?" But Peter never got to finish that sentence. The moment he entered his room, his mind went into overdrive. "Oh, my God..."

* * *

Sam awoke with a start, eyes darting about madly as he tried to figure out where he was. A small glass operating table suspended him in midair, four octopus-like arms stretching him out like a real life version of the  _Vitruvian Man_. His head was spinning, and he felt like he'd been thrown into a concrete wall. With all of that came the pain. He gasped and clenched his eyes shut tightly.

" _Ugh_..."

"I see the drug has worn off."

Sam gasped, stiffening and eyes widening, as Doctor Octopus slinked from the shadows.

"Let me g— _mmph_!" Doc Ock slapped tape over his mouth to silence him, but Sam still struggled violently against his restraints until he grew too exhausted to move.

"I must admit..." the scientist said, apparently pleased with Sam's efforts, swiveling to catch Sam's face at every angle, "…I do admire your spirit..." The teen edged away as he came closer. "Oh, come, come...don't be like  _that_..."

Doctor Octopus got right in Sam's face then, and Sam's resolve renewed despite his fatigue. The villain leaned in closer still, and the boy screwed his eyes shut and began to tremble.

" _Hey_! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to come on to people you've just met?!"

 


	3. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one is a lot longer than the others. I hope you enjoy.

Peter opened the door to find his room completely trashed. The bed was in two pieces, everything in the dresser was everywhere but, and there was nothing left of the wall where the window used to be.

But the worst part?

Whatever had destroyed his room had also taken Sam.

And that told him only one thing: this wasn't a kidnapping, but a  _statement_. Whoever had Sam knew about the connection with Spider-man, and it probably wasn't a far stretch to assume he knew Spider-man and Peter Parker were one and the same.

Peter started looking for clues. Whatever trashed his room couldn't have done it without leaving behind some kind of evidence to point him in the right direction – besides, it had taken  _Sam_ , and Peter knew that boy wouldn't let himself be taken without putting up one heck of a fight.

He found what he was looking for on the other side of the halved bed. It was a large chunk of metal about the size of Luke's fist, and its design, almost like a mechanical finger, was so… _familiar_ … Peter knelt down to get a better look. He  _knew_ this work, knew it  _well_ … He picked it up and turned it over in his palm, only for a few partially-smashed, specialized gears and severed wires to spill over his palm.

His eyes widened, then narrowed. He clutched the metal tightly in his hand, barely noticing when it cut him and blood dripped onto his carpeted floor.

Doc Ock.

_When I find_ you, he swore,  _you'll wish you'd captured a different superhero…_

* * *

It didn't take long to find the lab. Peter Parker had done his work; now, the rest was up to Spider-man. He was just outside the entrance when something shiny caught his eye. He swung down to land soundlessly beside it – the 'it' being Nova's helmet.

_Just as he'd thought..._ The monster knew who Sam was… _  
_  
He was back to crawling along the ceiling in an instant, stopping short when he spotted the Doc breaking a helpless Sam's personal space rule a million times over. But…wait…something wasn't right… Was—was the Doc…?! His eyes narrowed. _Oh_ , no! Not on his watch!

" _Hey_! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to come on to people you've just met?!"

Sam let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Spider-man was here! He'd come to save him! But…he sounded… _way_  different. All the humor that usually colored his voice was gone, replaced with an anger and a darkness Sam hadn't even known Parker possessed.

"Get away from him," Spider-man snarled, speaking slowly and deliberately so the Doc would know he meant business.

And the Doc wasn't stupid. He comprehended the murderous intent in Spider-man's words, let alone his body language and slit-narrow eyes, so he wisely did as he was told. "This is not over, Insect…" he vowed before slipping into the shadows.

Peter himself was alarmed at his behavior. Was he  _really_ _that_ protective of his friend? When he was Nova, maybe not, but  _Sam_? Definitely.  
The moment the madman was gone, he rushed over to the control panel and pressed the button to release Sam. The teen fell to the floor with a deadweight  _thud!_ and a strangled yelp, and Spider-man was kneeling at his side instantly.

" _Sam_! Are you all right?! Please tell me you are! You are, aren't you?! Because if you're not—"

"Webs?"

He heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, you're talking! That's a good sign in my book! And yeah?"

"Shut up."

Spider-man blinked. "Right, right, sorry! Nervous chatter!" Blushing slightly, he bent down a little to lift Sam up by his armpits.

"Webs, wait! I can't—!" But it was already too late. The second both of his feet were on solid ground, and even before then, Sam was leaning into Spider-man's chest, screaming in pain. His cheeks were burning from more than just the pain, though, and he shuddered at the feeling of the genius' frightened, worry-taut muscles. He sighed shakily and raised his head to glance up at Spider-man, though he averted his eyes in the next second to hide the agonized tears in his eyes. "I think he broke my leg," he explained, hating it when his voice trembled and broke constantly.

Spider-man's eyes widened, and then his face fell. If he'd just gotten home sooner instead of going shopping… Because Sam asked him to or not, he should have been there… Chasing the self-loathing thoughts away, he just grinned.

"Don't worry, Buckethead! I'm a science wiz, remember? I do occasionally delve into the medical field, too," he lowered Sam to the ground again as carefully as he could, "and I  _was_  in the Boy Scouts…for about a week." He wandered around the lab until he found what he was looking for. Taking hold of a control lever, he pulled with all his might until it broke off. Turning on his heel, he walked over to another just like it on the far wall and took that one as well. When he was done, he dusted off his backside where he'd fallen and marched calmly back to Sam. Setting the two pieces of metal on the floor on both sides of the injured leg, he peered down at himself, then up at Sam. "I'm going to need to borrow your gloves."

"What?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"For this splint to work until we can get you to a doctor, you're going to want something to cushion your leg. Otherwise, the metal will either cut you on the outside – best case scenario – or, if you don't have your tetanus shot and this metal is as rusty as it looks, make you wish you'd listened to me when I'm coming to visit you in the hospital." He held up his hands in front of his person. "Your choice, man."

Looking down at his leg and registering just how much pain he was in, Sam eventually sighed. "Fine." Removing his gloves, he handed them to Spider-man and watched as the webslinger removed the 'sock' portion of his costume. Sam raised an eyebrow again and wrinkled his nose.

Spider-man, catching the look, dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand. " _Relax_ , Buckethead. I washed the suit last night after training, remember?"

With that, he got to work, folding both gloves and 'socks' in half and laying one of each on both sides of his leg. He and Sam worked together to get the clothing in place, then the metal, before flashing the teen a smile.

"Almost done," he said. "Now, I'm going to secure your leg with my web fluid. It'll be tight, but that's a good thing. It'll keep your leg as still as possible until we can get you to a professional, which'll save us and the doctor a lot of grief, not to mention money. You're going to want to keep your hands where they are until the last second, all right?"

Sam nodded. "Sure, Webhead," he consented, quieter than usual, and he had a faraway look in his eyes.

Spider-man, suddenly uneasy, dropped a hand on his friend's shoulder and waved a hand in front of his face, snapping his fingers when that didn't work. "Nova? Hey, you okay? You're not going to pass out on me, are you?"

The Nova Corps member snapped back to reality and immediately blushed a bright red. "What? Uh, yeah, Webs, I'm fine. Sorry. It's just…" while his voice dropped in volume and his eyes dropped to the floor, a faint smile painted his lips, "…it's been a long time since anyone's taken care of me like this. It's…kinda nice…" He was quiet for a minute before he spoke up again, ducking his head a bit out of embarrassment. "You're pretty good at this sciencey-medical stuff, too. I guess I'm just…" if possible, his face reddened even more, and he averted his eyes as he rubbed the back of his head nervously, "…impressed, I guess."

Spider-man blinked twice. Was  _Sam_ seriously complimenting  _him_? He wasn't sure what to say, really, so he said the only thing he could think of.

"Thanks, Sam. That…really means a lot," he confessed, smiling warmly. And truly, it did. His Uncle Ben had always supported his dreams of being a world famous scientist one day, and right now…Sam, of all people, was reminding him of the person he loved and missed the most in his life. It was weird, but…he welcomed it. It felt like home.

Sam, though, for his part, felt his cheeks coloring up a storm. He cleared his throat. "So, we gonna get my leg fixed up any time soon or do I have to sit here until I'm old and gray?"

Spider-man shook his head vehemently. "Right, right, sorry! Nostalgia trip! My bad!" He took a deep breath and checked everything over one more time. "Okay, ready?"

Sam nodded, and the superhero set to work. It only took a few more minutes for the splint to be fully-functional, Spider-man examining his handiwork with a trained eye while his teammate waited for the 'A-okay.' When he finally got it seconds later, he sighed in relief. "Finally!" Spider-man's responding smirk was tight, and Sam hurried to correct himself. "I just meant—!"

The superhero shook his head with a lighthearted chuckle. "I know what you meant, Buckethead." He moved into a crouch and held out his arms. "Now comes the real test. You trust me?"

And to Sam's surprise, he realized that, yes, he  _did_ trust Spider-man, utterly and completely – but even more than that, he trusted the man underneath the mask. "Of course I do, Webs," and he really, truly meant that, "but…what are you gonna do now? You can't carry me  _and_ shoot your webs."

Spider-man raised his finger and chuckled again. "Oh, ye of little faith!" Gripping Sam under his armpits again, he pulled the boy to his working foot and braced him with one hand while he turned around slowly, switching arms halfway through to help Sam keep his balance. "Okay, now put your arms around my neck, and we're good to go!"

The teenager's eyes widened, and his cheeks inflamed instantly. "B-but—!"

"Don't worry, Buckethead! I'm perfectly capable of carrying you  _and_ your bum leg to safety!" Sam still seemed hesitant, and Spider-man's expression visibly softened, mask or no mask. "You'll be fine, I promise. I'm not going to let anything else happen to you."

Oddly enough, that seemed to reassure the injured superhero, and he did as instructed without another word, resisting the urge to bury his face in the crook between Spider-man's neck and shoulder. It had been a long, mistake-filled day, and he just wanted to go home and rest.

Spider-man, for his part, beamed at the show of trust, and a wonderful warmth blossomed inside him.

"Thank you for flying Air Spider-man! Please hold on as tightly as possible and keep all legs, injured and otherwise, as close to your transportation of choice as you can to ensure a safe, comfortable, and speedy flight! Thank you, and have a  _webtastic_  day!"

Sam couldn't hold back a loud laugh.  _There_ was the joking superhero he knew...and yeah, okay, secretly loved!


	4. Chapter 4

Five days later, Sam was tired of sitting on the couch and doing nothing. Ever since they'd taken him to the doctor to get his leg checked – broken in two places; he'd be in a cast for a while, meaning no superheroing for at least that long while he recovered, if not longer – Peter had been waiting on him hand and foot.

And while his teammate definitely didn't mind the attention (and would normally be taping this for some serious blackmail later), it was starting to get a little old. He didn't  _want_  Peter at his beck and call. He just wanted Peter  _here_ , keeping him company, and that was all. He wasn't exactly an extravagant guy; he didn't need all the extras.

"Come on, man! Aunt May left us plenty of money!" Peter tried to persuade, plopping down on the couch next to Sam. "I could order in!" he sing-songed, but his friend just pushed him away with a laugh.

"Don't be stupid, Parker," he replied, although the usual patronising tone was noticeably absent. As if to prove his point, he grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to the counter, where he pulled a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs out of the microwave. Breathing in deeply, he grinned, grabbed a fork, and took a gigantic bite. "Your aunt made  _awesome_  food for us to eat while she's away! As long as I'm stuck here, the least I can do is eat it so I can tell her how good it was when she gets back!"

Peter ran after him, eyes darting from the crutches to Sam's heavy lean against the counter to his albeit-happily-eating-Aunt-May's-delicious-food face. "But you're supposed to be  _resting_! Doctor's orders, never mind Fury's and mine!"

Sam turned to him, brow furrowed, and Peter barely bit back a laugh at his spaghetti sauce-spattered lips and chin. "But  _Parker_ , I'm  _fine_!" he insisted, sounding very much like a too-tired five-year-old.

"No way, Sam," the temporary head of the Parker household finalized sternly. Picking up Sam's dinner in one hand, he grasped the boy's hand in a death grip with the other and overdramatically dragged him back to the living room, pointedly ignoring both the blush slowly creeping up his neck and his charge's resistance. "Now get your butt on that couch," he lightly pushed Sam there himself, "and  _stay put_. If you need anything,  _I_ can get it. No matter what, I don't want you reinjuring that leg."

He turned around to set Sam's dinner on the coffee table and then retrieve the phone, only for a hand to slip into his and tug him backward onto the couch. Glancing down at the hand, he followed its arm and was surprised (but why shouldn't he be?) to come face-to-face with an impishly-smirking Sam.

"Then why don't you make me... _S_ _pider-man_?"

* * *

Otto Octavius was furious.

He'd had both heroes within his grasp, right where he'd wanted them, and  _what_?! He'd let them  _escape_!

Of course, that was just the downside. There  _was_ an upside to this catastrophe as well, one that could prove exceptionally promising, indeed. He'd narrowed down his list of possible Spider-man candidates a while back, and following months of careful consideration and many a sleepless night, he'd recently come to the infallible conclusion that it was one of the many people living within the Parker home. And considering he knew for a fact there were only two people staying there at the moment, one of them being the 'Nova' boy he'd captured earlier, there was only one other possible choice.

Spider-man – or should he say  _Peter Parker_  – had walked right into his trap.

And now?

Now, Doctor Octopus not only knew the secret identity of the hero called Nova, but even more importantly, he knew Spider-man's…

* * *

"P…t…r… Pete… Peter… Peter!"

" _Ugh_ … Five more minutes, Aunt May..." Peter mumbled, rolling over in his bed.

Sam chuckled and poked his friend's head. "Breakfast's ready, Webhead!"

At that, the team leader's eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright in bed. "You didn't…" he hoped, but had to scowl darkly when the half-Hispanic teen burst out laughing. " _Sam_! You were supposed to wake me up when I slept through my alarm! You do that, and I make you your favorite breakfast.  _That_ was the deal!"

Granted, while getting up on time had never been a problem for him before, now that Peter was going to school, superheroing (though Fury was easing up on the training for the time being in light of their situation, something he greatly appreciated), and looking after Sam, he was so tuckered out by the end of the day that he'd been sleeping straight through his morning alarm. So, he and Sam struck a deal that the latter would wake Peter when his alarm went off if Webhead would make him his favorite breakfast every morning (not that he hadn't been planning on doing that already; one, because as far as he was concerned, Sam was  _his_ responsibility, and he was going to honor that the best way he knew how, and two, because Sam was hurt, and Peter still partially blamed himself for that, so he wanted to do everything he could to make sure his friend got better as soon as (super)humanly possible). So far, things had been going smoothly, but  _this_  particular morning…

Peter crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from his teammate, bottom lip projecting in a pout. "I'm never talking to you again. Ever."

Sam shrugged exaggeratedly. "Suit yourself, Parker." He made a show of strolling out the door as slickly as one could while on crutches, poking his head back in at the last second. "I guess you won't be wanting any of my  _pancakes_ _,_ then!"

_That_ got Peter out of bed in a flash, partly because he didn't want Sam going down the stairs by himself (bad enough he'd had to do it once and then climb up again in the first place) and partly because he desperately needed some of the best homemade pancakes  _ever_  to fill his empty stomach. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on! I wouldn't go  _that_ far! After all, what kind of humanitarian would I be if I let all that delicious batter and cinnamon go to waste?"

Peter was practically licking his lips at the thought, and Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Sure, Parker. Whatever you say…"

 


End file.
